


Broken

by aboutmikasa (Coco_c)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, F/M, NSFW, Reincarnation, angsty little drabbles, canonverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coco_c/pseuds/aboutmikasa
Summary: Drabbles about broken hearts and broken souls... because sometimes love is not enough.





	1. Birthday Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Mikasa Week | AU

_With this ring, I promise you…_

The garnet of the Sangiovese danced in the glass, following the movements of her hand. The papers resting on the table before her. For thirteen hours, she read, stared, and tried to ignore those three hundred words that summarized her life. She memorized every word, though, tasting the acridness of the irony. Mumbling the same word until the meaning sank.

 _Irretrievably_ …

A simple adverb laughing at her since the confines of a piece of paper. A prosaic hyperbole. The exaggeration of the evident. No amends to make. No more promises. Nothing to put right. Beyond retrieve.

_We both want…_

Another lie. But it didn’t matter. She would sign the papers and it would be over. It ended a long time before she noticed, anyway. Enough time for him to forget the date. To forget their promises. To forget her. The woman closed her eyes —her thumb caressing the tan lines on her ring finger— and breathed a long, deep sigh to suppress the shaking of her hands and the quivering of her bottom lip.

A vain effort.

Five minutes before midnight, she wrote her name above his and watched the ink smear.


	2. One thousand twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-canonverse

Seventeen minutes of dreadful silence. He was alert.

He was always alert. Even so, for seventeen minutes the sounds faded, the candlelight erased the world, his skin quivered, and he clenched his fists until it hurt. Even with the growing slow heartbeat and the weight of the past on his shoulders, the man’s face showed nothing. No one could tell. His perpetual frown served as disguise since his childhood. Maybe if the eyes of the woman standing next to him ignored the infinite night and looked at him.

Maybe.

Perhaps.

Going against the odds was his thing, wasn’t it?

Both wore jackets, still, his right arm sensed the proximity of her warm. Once upon a time, delighting caresses provoked goosebumps all over his body. Once upon a time, her eyes saw nothing but him. His best effort didn’t appease the arrhythmic movement of his heart and his frustration worsened his headache. It would be as easy as opening his hand. It would have been easy back then. Not now. Not ever.

Seventeen minutes after, she was gone.

None of them extended their hands and he stood there, contemplating the qualm and the nothingness of his mere existence.


	3. Average things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU

It wasn’t the moonlight or the fragrance of the violets, neither the tickling of the sand beneath her feet. Nor a piano sonata in F major. No, it was the tar taste of the cigarette smoke, the endless red light and the rush hour, the crumbs in the bed, the line of ants walking around the flower pot. 

Average things.  Everyday things. 

Too ordinary to avoid them. Not that she didn't try; even so, poetry didn’t clench her chest, but curses and harsh words deprived her lungs of air.

Banned memories eluding the censorship of her mind; playing her tricks and making her listen to the nonexistent sounds and voices from an unreachable past. It took nothing and her skin burned under the ghost stroke of a feather touch.

It didn’t take long at least. Just a few minutes. Always a few minutes. The longest.

She inhaled parsimoniously, appeasing the shadows of the future that would never be. Then, she regained the composure, muttering an “ _everything will be fine”_ mantra. With a decent amount of luck, she would forget—not that he left, but that he broke her.


	4. Men don’t cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canonverse

The night was cold and the downpour fell. The scotch he served, long-forgotten, just like his intentions of sleeping and vanishing from reality. One of many nights. But that time, work didn’t distract him. When the sun rises, the Reveille would sound, waking up the soldiers and he’d act as any other day. Fighting as any other day. Living as any other day.

A normal day, not different from yesterday or the day before. He sighed and his lip twitched, his shoulder, hunching slightly. The hand against the window frame supported his weight and his mind played a dangerous game, remembering and wondering.

Men don’t cry.

He had heard the same thing since he was a kid and yet, there he was, standing in front of the window and looking to nowhere in the middle of the night, with a name tattooed on his left shoulder and an “ _I can’t”_ burning his heart.


	5. [crystalline]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Smutmas Rivamika  
> AU | NSFW | Explicit

The logistics of the aftermath is everything but hot. For fifteen minutes, he grabbed her hips and pumped inside of her as if the world depended on his ability to make her come, and she showed her need clawing his back until her toes curled. Until her skin smelled like cigarettes, sarcasm, and probably Windex. He took it slow, pumping in and out of her and steadying his body with the strength of his arms, his thumb on her clit intensifying the sensations, pushing them closer to new dimensions. At least until her breasts bounced while she took his dick inside of her—in her best reverse cowgirl impersonation.

But for passionate the experience was, it ended.

He sat on the bed facing the wall, removing the condom and checking it just in case. Just to be sure. And she said nothing while fixing her clothes, undoing their frenzy steps and recovering the discarded pieces. A dreadful silence—instead of moans, heavy breathing, and groans —filled the place.

There was nothing to say, anyway.

She shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t have invited her that last cup of wine.

In her way out, she adjusted the red scarf and looked around one last time to the place she knew from another life; he changed nothing and her eyes lingered on the wall they painted together when the future held a meaning. With the doorknob in her hand, she signed knowing he wouldn’t come after her. He wouldn’t ask her to stay.

Like she did years ago, the woman opened the door and the cold air froze her tears while snowflakes fell all over her hair.

She knew he wasn’t heartbroken; he didn't have a heart to begin with.


	6. Airports

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU

Nobody liked airports. Crowded and noisy buildings, delayed flights, expensive and bad food, un-attended belongings, and dirt. Ah, the irony! The job of the annoyed man required his presence in many places and traveling became routine. Two years traveling and moving between hordes of people carrying cases that wouldn’t fit on the plane. Two years until he understood what “small world” meant.

The woman standing in the immigration line in front of him looked surprised too but her “hi” was louder. Then, silence. The asymmetrical and short hair looked gorgeous on her, and she seemed more serene since the last time they shared a “hi”. After a while, she indulged small talk and he didn’t know a line could drain his energy away; but he owed her and complied. The woman faced him and those pretty lips formed a silent question when the officer called her, asking if they traveled together. Her eyes found him and she shook her head, walking alone and handing the papers. 

They didn’t travel together anymore.

She waved a timid goodbye and he nodded, moving in the opposite direction. The world was indeed small but the aching vacuum inside of him wasn’t.


	7. Next Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU

“Captain, I found you,” she muttered a broken statement. The red and wet sensation clouded her eyes and her hand struggled to grab his vest, wanting to caress his face. With nothing else to do, the man gently took her hand and removed a rebel lock from her forehead. A beautiful young woman. 

_I’m sorry my love, it took me too long to find you._

He didn’t remember and the woman smiled, too weak to speak. How many times had he comforted her? How many lives had she searched for him? 

Always late. 

She could touch his increasing frustration as her eyelids refused to stay open. If she closed her eyes, they’d remain close. The girl had missed the kindness in his eyes, his voice and deep care but life slipped between her fingers, just like the promise of a future; still, her heart found peace with his hand holding hers. Hanji told him that she was confusing him with someone else and the paramedic squeezed harder the grip, comforting the dying woman as they trained him. 

Tears fell and little by little the world vanished. 

Maybe in the next life it wouldn’t be too late. 


	8. Without recipient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-canonverse

The heaviness of the quill paused the capital letter she tried to draw. Her hands were not hers, just like the life she lived. The fogged memories danced in the corner of her eyes, falling and furrowing the lines of a story that no one would hear. Not about heroes and legends, but a mundane and pristine love. Too simple for chants. Too pure to be told. Naught but a reminiscence.

The past and the present.

The lie he told to save her.

His absence.

After piling up the letter next to the hundreds she had written over the years of solitude, the woman dared to look in the mirror. Long gone was the terse skin he caressed. Long gone the hope. Long gone the warm he provided. With one word, the world stopped rotating on its axis and her strength couldn’t avoid it.

One word.

He never knew his sacrifice wasn’t her freedom but her curse.


	9. Honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canonverse | Smut

When my cock drills her, she’s mine. Her eyes on me, my name on her lips, her possessive tongue exploring my body, and her nails marking my skin. The inner walls clenching at me, squeezing and making me hers are real and dangerous. I lose myself in her scent and I drink her like a poison, willing to die if my mantis wants it.

She doesn’t fall for cheap psychological tricks, no, she’s all about physic and angles and technic. There’s no chance to bullshit my ways with her. It’s never rough for the sake of rough. Now, I’m an expert reading the signals. Understanding her.

She’s my language. My main language.

I exude her. If I cut my finger, she comes out through my veins.

While fucking, she’s mine.

Unlike her, I’m trickable, but she never runs the easy path and takes her time building the pleasure with precise and attentive caresses. She’s never lied. It’s not in her nature. When she comes to me it’s because she wants. When she comes with my cock, mouth or fingers between her thighs, it’s because I make her. 

In ecstasy she’s mine.

I’m always hers.

But I know better.

Even if I’m easy to trick and because there’s no reason to hide it, in the aftermath–while putting her clothes back–, she longs for someone else, despite my cum dripping her pussy.


	10. No tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-canonverse | smut

It wasn’t the same thing. The skin tasted different, the sweat fell in wrong patterns, toes didn’t curl, and the shortness of her breath didn’t end with the name she wanted to scream.

It wasn’t the same.

Even the cum had a sweeter aftertaste.

The young soldier burying his face between her thighs tried so hard to melt the ice in her heart; the guy even talked about the former glory they shared. She should have known better. Their Captain’s name came out from his mouth like the most natural question in the world. If he had pierced her chest and ripped out her heart, the pain wouldn’t have been as excruciating.

“You tell me,” she said before bouncing on his cock instead of crying. And yet, her clit missed the roughness of the fingerprints that weren’t touching her.

She was supposed to forget the arms that held her, the lips that imprinted _him_ in her soul.

She was supposed to forget.

Just like  _he_  did.


	11. Not that kind of fairy tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU

His finger moved fast and soon the right word completed the message; blaming the auto corrector seemed easier than controlling the quivering finger.

And the quivering heart.

The grip of her hand anchored him to a lie but he stayed there, watching those infinite eyes and wondering. The arch of her eyebrow questioned the phone on his hands but she said nothing. Instead, his heart jumped at the shy smile and the oxygen saturation in his blood ran high.

On her lips, he tasted the sweetness of the freedom and the bitterness of a lie. Only a pathetic creature would have believed he played prince charming for her.

White suited her and the trail emanating from her enchanted the audience. With him on the front row. How little the envious crowd knew as his possessive hands hold her and his feet marked the steps.

The lie of his evil queen would kill him… but not having her would destroy him anyway. 


	12. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Rivamika Winter Moon  
> Post-canonverse

His snow queen dedicated an empty smile to the people around her. Polite and distant. Fulfilling a duty heavier than the three walls that used to keep the titans away.

Her eyes wandered and found him, offering him a simple nod. The empty and compelling courtesy victors must show. A trained act.

What happened that day? Armin and the kid never spoke about it and he, he arrived too late. Bathed in blood, she cried in his arms and took shelter in his bed. He asked nothing and she said the same.

Always distant.

The captain followed her and leaning in the door frame, the man drank in the icy beauty of his fellow soldier. What could have been? With age stupid questions kept on spinning in his mind.

She stood quiet, looking at the past with the same longing he could have felt in his heart—if he still had one.


End file.
